


the warfare of love

by MiraclesInApril



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Violence, Prostitution, commander x prostitute, some of the sappiest shit you will ever read probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 06:52:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18115547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraclesInApril/pseuds/MiraclesInApril
Summary: The war was won, jubilation lit the realm. Their warriors returned with, of course, the Commander at their head. Jongin despaired over the relief and yearning he felt.





	the warfare of love

**Author's Note:**

> glossary:
> 
> a chroí - my heart  
> a chuisle - my pulse (i.e. darling)  
> mo ghrá - my love

  
  


The ivory moon was heavy and opalescent in the dark sky, a celestial balm for sore eyes. It was long past twilight, when the common folk started to pack up their stalls and carts and returned home for nightfall. But not that night. That night the streets were full of cheer and jubilation and the city would be fired up in revelry as if it were noon on Lughnasadh until the wee hours of the morning. 

It was a cause for celebration, Jongin supposed, that the grueling grapple of poor folk with thinned soils on the verge of infertility, folk could barely provide for themselves, would cease. That there would no longer be the ghoulish silence that haunted the streets, the fear tincturing the air like midday sun beaming on a butcher’s refuse. Waiting for death to arrive, on the doorsteps of the non-warriors who’d remained, because their asinine and portentous ruler had waged an unnecessary war, in the name of defending an honour that had not been traduced. It was a cause for celebration that his best friend would return home and his aunt would stop sleeping by the door, waiting and praying for his cousin. 

The war was over. Their army, though worse for wear, returned home in victory. 

And it was a cause for consternation too. 

War emptied coffers and grain houses alike. But not brothels. Where the warriors went, brothel masters followed, a congregation to its shrine. Unless the war was great and the majority of the village or city patrons had gone to join battle. Those were the only places where brothels became vacant. 

Between the gaiety and consternation fell this other emotion. A crossbreed of anticipation and dread. 

Would he come? 

Relief had buried him swiftly as soon as the first warriors burst through the gates.  _ He  _ was at their head, leading the procession of victors as its Commander. And the reason behind the triumph it would seem, as soon as the warriors got their hands on grub and ale and talked of their victory with bard-like aggrandizement, terribly boisterous as if each was trying to carry their version of the tale to the palace. 

_ He  _ was alive and well and victorious as ever, another chapter in the annals accredited to his name. Jongin had been foolish to worry. He was the Black Crow, he wielded the Saber of Morrigna. He was  _ Chanyeol. _ Of course Jongin should not have worried. 

Albeit knowing that, he found himself staring at the moon each night, with the intention to pray for his blood, for his friends and for all their people that went to fight. The leap to fervently praying to Arawn and Arianrhod to keep one soldier, in particular, protected and alive happened quite mysteriously but each night it was the same. There came a time when news from the camps became scarce and the duration of the war grew and the ache of missing him became a thorn in his lung. Jongin no longer tried to deny it or fool himself. He missed the bastard commander, damn him. 

Years had passed since the Black Crow first set a foot inside the Petals of Passion, years since he marched up to Jongin in the parlour, secured an arm around his waist and requested a private chamber. Jongin hadn’t understood it then and on Maeve’s Sword he didn’t understand it now. When word of the Black Crow heading towards the House reached Master Calwyn, the fairest and most alluring of the boys and girls were pushed to the front, lounging and lined for him right from the door. Rumours had raged about the Commander never having enjoyed his share of rumps, in spite of the many plainly voluntary to him. There was speculation that he was truly a deity of combat and war, with no need for mortal functions.  There were also the whispers that the Black Crow was an eunuch. That one filled Jongin’s being with enough mirth to spring tears to his eyes. He was particularly fond of that rumour, to Chanyeol’s ceaseless chagrin. 

Jongin was neither fair nor alluring. Master Calwyn had been unequivocal in telling him and reminding him of that often. From the time Calwyn had taken him in out of pity when his mother died and he landed on the streets, Calwyn’s favourite salutations and common remarks to him were  _ boy I should have left you on those streets  _ and  _ for the trouble the others are at least they bring me coin _ and  _ you are the only whore in the entire history of whoredom who is lousy at whoring, boy. _ It was almost entirely true. Almost, because he was not lousy to be precise. No, he did not get the opportunity to do a bad job. He was always the last resort when the house was full and all the other boys and girls were occupied. He was flat and gangly which was off putting to clients who came looking for lean or plump or willowy with plenty meandering skin to grip. He was neither fair nor did his skin have that radiant bronze sheen which was so coveted, not until he was to be older. He was undesirable and unfit to be in a brothel, Calwyn said. Jongin was not inclined to disagree. 

Things started to turn as he got older. As he learnt to eat more and fill out his figure. As he borrowed oils and ointments from Sinead and Sehun, ointments they said would enhance his skin and improve his appearance. As he took up jewelries and the more diaphanous robes he’d initially been adamantly against and learnt to match them in ways that flattered him and gave him an undeniably risque appeal. It was then that patrons started to notice him. Unfortunately it wasn’t enough to grow him in favour with Calwyn but his clientele, especially the loyal and repeat ones, grew. More than half of his earnings went back to the house but he made enough to keep a roof over his aunt and buy him a meal away from the House when he managed to sneak out with a few of the other workers once every blue moon. 

That was before Chanyeol. 

Despite all the changes and improvements he’d made to himself, it was still incomprehensible for the Black Crow to sail past everyone and come straight to him. There were plenty far prettier and more beautiful than him, far more enticing and exquisite-featured. What transpired after that made him think that he was stuck in the most bizarre of dreamlands. Normally before the door had even shut, a client would be attempting to rip off his (exiguous) clothing, having groped him all the way to the room. Seldom had they kept their grip on him respectful and seldom,  _ seldom  _ had they wanted to talk. Sometimes the young and unwed ones would try and talk to him but they’d be cut off by a thundering bang on the door announcing that the time their coin afforded was up. The adulterous ones could hardly even look him in the eye, taking him rough and quick on his hands and knees with his head firmly planted in the mattress or floor, safe from what they believed to be his accusing eyes when it was their own guilt and chamber-pot-soul that shamed them. 

Chanyeol had poured  _ him  _ wine and merely sat on the bed with him. He said he wanted to know about Jongin and that he should know he could talk freely. Jongin wondered if it was some depraved form of foreplay for the Commander, take a piece of whore soul before taking him every elsehow too and owning him completely, if only for a short time. Would slapping a warrior, especially one of that esteem and caliber, cost him a hand? An arm? Perhaps both? Thankfully Jongin had refrained from finding out. 

But he also refrained from giving in to Chanyeol’s request and made demands of his own, ignoring the part of him that wanted to buy the man’s sincerity in only wishing to speak. It was beyond his comprehension why the Black Crow wished to make conversation with him, him, a whore and nothing more. But he couldn’t allow his mind to get bloated with impossible hopes and notions. Despite the dark whispers of the Commander spearing and mutilating anyone who slighted him in the least, Jongin was not going to stand it. His livelihood was in his body,  it was the offer and service that was purchased. Not his heart, not his soul. It was the only thing that remained his to give and he would decide when and how and whom. He demanded for Chanyeol to fuck him like he paid for or to leave. He’d looked at Jongin with bewilderment, as if Jongin was a jester’s marionette that had spoken unmanned. 

The bewilderment was Jongin’s when the Commander  _ apologized  _ and left hastily. He could not put the incident behind him, turning it over in his mind again and again the following days. His clientele fluxed exceedingly. Every scum and soldier alike wanted to say they’d fucked the same whore as the  _ Black Crow. _ The seeds of despise started to sow themselves in Jongin, growing slowly and then all at once. Calwyn gave him no breaks. He was only allowed three hours’ sleep and two pauses for nourishment at most before he had to be back in the private chambers or splayed out in the parlour for everyone who wished to have their turn. It was suddenly as if Petals of Passion was severely shorthanded and the whole realm had come to be satisfied by Jongin.

He thought often about the Commander and his peculiarity but he never expected him to return, especially not after Jongin’s flagrant behaviour. Until he did at noon one day and paid upfront for the time until noon the following day. He greeted Jongin, removed his boots, and asked Jongin to lie down on the bed. With a breath of relief, he did so, celebrating internally that damn man would do what he came to do and stop fiddling with Jongin’s mind. Then he lied down by his side, so close that Jongin thought with incredulity  _ the Commander is burrowing in the crook of my neck. _ And then Chanyeol went to sleep. 

_ Sleep! _

Perhaps the gods were testing his sanity. The bafflement and daze he went through in those hours that Chanyeol serenely slept certainly convinced him so. Was he waiting for Jongin to lose consciousness before he used him for his purposes? Jongin didn’t dare fall asleep. At times he had clients who wanted him to pretend he were someone else or carry out a scenario with him and he didn’t take offence to them. At times he even enjoyed them with the better ones, the ones that looked at him as if he was worth more than the spunk in their breeches and carried themselves with a little more gravitas. 

Chanyeol had the gravitas and he had the respect to the letter but to what ends? He perplexed Jongin greatly. 

“Haven’t slept a wink, have you?” he’d known when he awoke, with a soupçon of sadness. 

“I have rested well, thank you for lying by me.”

“I would leave you but I’m afraid they’ll have others occupying your time that I paid for.” 

“Have you eaten today?” 

“What is your name?”

Jongin replied to none of his questions or statements, confounded and disconcerted by all of them. 

Until: “Why do you gaze at me with such eyes?”

“Such as?” 

“As if  you see Ankou in me and fear I’ve come to take your soul.” 

“You confuse me.” Jongin admitted, though it came out accusatory. “I don’t know what your intentions are. You’re in a whorehouse yet you wish to speak. Only speak. You’ve reserved my entire day yet you’ve only slept. What is it that you’re after? Lord.” he added as an afterthought, catching his impertinence. 

“Would you like me to touch you? Would that put you at ease?” Chanyeol mused and stroked the back of a thick finger down his cheek. The gentleness of the touch made him flinch.  

“I want to know you, sweeting. I have no ulterior intention—other than perhaps having you give yourself to me willingly but that is besides the discussion here. Saying this to you now will not earn me any of your trust but I hope to have it in time.” 

Predictably Jongin did not trust it and Chanyeol seemed to take no offence. He sat up on the rickety bed, the whole brawny mass of him making the space look and feel infant-sized, and delved into stories about himself and about battles he’d fought. Despite Jongin’s reluctance, the regalement worked to intrigue him and by the end of the afternoon Jongin was riveted and hanging onto the Commander’s every word, eager to know what he did next or what followed in his story. There were always tales drifting around about the Black Crow. Some of the things he’d been said to have done was relegated to myth by any with common sense but even the most outrageous of accounts about him had men and women taking oaths on all the gods that it was true, they witnessed it with their own eyes. Jongin knew many would consider the position he was in to be an honour. While he wasn’t quite sold on that front, he was pleased. Especially because it was known that Chanyeol did not dally around much. The man also had a grim sort of humour which Jongin surprisingly shared and for the first time he could remember, a stranger managed to draw a laugh from him. Too frequently and too easily for his liking, to be truthful.  

Restraint and perseverance, Jongin could admit, were two things Chanyeol possessed in great supply and were most likely two great contributors to his prowess and repute. Over the next six moons he thawed Jongin to a begrudging friendship, though Jongin was wary as to how far he could go to claim it a ‘friendship’. He had friends, Alexander was his  _ best  _ mate, and with none of his friends did he share an underlying current of desire that could seemingly not be quelled. There were other things too; the way Chanyeol liked to tentatively pick up his hand as they spoke and stroke his fingers or intertwine them with his own, the way he caressed Jongin’s cheek or shoulders, the way he embraced Jongin upon arrival and departure, burying his face in Jongin’s neck, inhaling deeply as if he waited all day long to do it, lips on his skin and eliciting a shudder that thrummed through them both. 

The ‘friendship’ ended when Chanyeol came to Jongin one morning after two days of absence—which Jongin would not admit to having extensively worried. Dark eyed and evidently struggling to constrain himself, Chanyeol divulged the recurrent lascivious dream that involved Jongin and wouldn’t allow him to rest. Before he could finish, Jongin was in his lap, lips pressed to his. Though he’d been reluctant and cynical of the Commander’s intentions, he was not blind to the man’s rugged features and enthralling aura and the lust this combination induced in him. He too had dreams of Chanyeol, dreams he awoke from slick in sweat and aching desperately between his thighs. Chanyeol had been gentle the first time. The second time he took Jongin with the relentlessness and power that earned him the title ‘Black Crow’ and then the times that followed after were an amalgamation of all the Chanyeols Jongin knew him to be. 

 

_ I am not waiting for anyone, I am here because the warriors are back and there will be business, _ he thought now but there was little conviction behind it. He would have gone to the parlour if that was true. He was currently standing at the beaded curtain entrance, staring up at the sky with a belly slithering with hope and apprehension. Chanyeol had requested this room for him, for it to be his permanent private residence at the House because he’d once confessed that he rarely saw the moon as he was working through the night and most of the establishment had no windows or openings, not even slits. He never voiced his gratitude but he’d pushed Chanyeol onto his back that night and ridden him for all he was worth before they sat outside and watched the moon together. 

Chanyeol had no reason to come back to him. Jongin had seen to it that he burned every bridge before the Commander had left to fight. A year into the subtle courtship and it dawned on Jongin, with unmitigated horror. He was falling for the Commander, that there  _ was  _ a courtship ongoing. As often as he berated himself for being a fool, he wasn’t one completely. There would be no happy ending for them, for him. His contract, which he’d signed under the duress of being in a place of absolute vulnerability, slaved him to Calwyn. He would be gray or drop dead before his debt was paid off. Not even the traffic of customers that ensued Chanyeol could pay it off. There was no leaving the House for him, a fact he’d resigned himself to but was becoming increasingly averse to, with thoughts of running away to foreign realms entering his mind more and more frequently. 

The other side of the leaf was Chanyeol and who he was, the status he held. The Commander visiting a brothel and sating a carnality experienced by all was one thing, the Commander frequenting the brothel like a place of secondary residence was in an entirely different book. He was of noble birth and rank. The whispers had long arisen and no doubt made their way to the ears that could afflict most harm to the Black Crow’s reputation. He had no future with Jongin and the vice versa applied. Why he pursued Jongin in the beginning was inane but worse that it had gone as long as it did. If not for anything else, then there was their safety to consider. Chanyeol may have considered himself infallible and therefore Jongin as well by extension but Jongin believed they both knew better than that. Chanyeol was a great asset to the realm. With no male heirs, the King practically considered Chanyeol his son and bargaining chip. One day he would utilize that value. 

So he did the only thing he believed he could do and reverted to treating Chanyeol with the removedness of client and worker. He requested that Chanyeol stop seeing him, stop reserving chunks of his time that didn’t allow for many others despite Chanyeol tipping three times more than all of his other clients combined. He claimed that he grew tired of the Commander and that there was nothing special about him, he was like all the others and perhaps even lesser than them for having used his standing to hoard Jongin’s time and not having given him the option to refuse him and his attentions. Chanyeol had been astounded and aghast. He disappeared. Jongin’s job became more miserable to him than ever. Faces bled together, time moved like the sun was apprehensive to set and Jongin welcomed the little rest he got now that he was no longer unavailable for extended lengths of time, being in the company of the Commander. He grew repulsed by himself and by the pigs that mounted him with ample degradation on their ale loosened tongues. It was a jarring readjustment after Chanyeol’s treatment of him on par with that of a nacre, with that of the most valuable jewels in the realm’s treasury and coffers. 

Chanyeol returned a fortnight later, steel eyes, salve touch, telling Jongin that he did not believe him and that he wanted the names of those who threatened him. He claimed to have conducted his own investigation but could find no trail.  _ A chuisle you must tell me, I will let no harm come to you.  _

A chuisle. 

It made Jongin shiver. Still, he refused to cede or give his true reasons for ending things but Chanyeol refused to quit. Resilience and perseverance. Knowing that Chanyeol, Jongin’s final words before he left of having found a new love was most likely not believed but it was better not to hope than be crushed. A year had transpired. Their army had travelled far to the border of the realm. He could have met someone on the way or found camaraderie and romance in a fellow warrior, one closer to his standing than Jongin would ever be. 

He sighed and it echoed an ache deep inside him. He turned away from the luminous moon and drew back into his room. 

His heart leapt to his tongue and his spirit almost transcended his fleshly mould. 

The Commander stood at the opposite end of his room, in all his worn glory and travel filth, as if to Jongin was the first he went upon dismounting his horse at arrival—though Jongin knew that wasn’t true.  

The dark leather lamellar he normally donned was missing but his commander brooch was clasped at the shoulder of his onyx furred cloak, his crow pomelled sword scabbarded to his side. Wasps of his hair had escaped from the bone hairpin holding it in a bun atop his head and framed his face in a corona. The substantial stubble Jongin remembered grew into a thick, rough beard. There were traces of mud on his trousers and long boots, and dirt streaked on his face and dusted his chest where the long tunic parted and the cloak didn’t conceal. 

He looked worn and boorish, a bestial glint in his eyes and clinging about his aura. Jongin had never been so grateful or glad to behold such a sight. There was exultation and instant desire curdling in him. 

Chanyeol moved on Jongin, loosening his scabbard and belt to the floor. Albeit keeping himself phlegmatic, Jongin’s heart leaped again with unvarnished rejoice. With long brief strides Chanyeol was upon him, arm secured around his shoulders, binding them chest to chest and another in his hair and controlling his gaze. He stroked a rough thumb over Jongin’s cheek as he assessing him, the iron glint in his eyes melting to an emotion that Jongin recognized in himself, that made his pulse quicken and spirit soar. He returned it with a coolness and denied himself the urge to lean into the touch.

Then Chanyeol’s mouth met his in a hard dive, lips brutal and tongue invasive, as if to absorb Jongin’s essence through the kiss. He was not allowed a moment’s breath as Chanyeol held him still and kissed him ferally. He found a grip on the top of Jongin’s pellucid gown and started a tear down the middle. Jongin could focus on nothing but Chanyeol’s lips on his as he was moved towards the bed, his back hitting the bedding and breaking their connection briefly. He blinked up at Chanyeol in relative daze. He watched Chanyeol watch him, take in his form through the cloth that was as good as transparent, his intentions unfolding with every inch of skin he gazed over. 

Leaning down, he scooped Jongin up into his lap, making him towering over him as their lips reconnected. Jongin clutched him everywhere he could, feeling the press of their bodies and delighting over it, relieved to have this again, and terribly aroused to be under the rule of this body once more. The night air ghosted along his back that was now exposed. Blunt nails raked down between his shoulder blades until they met with his cheeks where Chanyeol rubbed, almost affectionately. 

A finger probed at his entrance, easing in with no resistance. After its findings, Chanyeol’s cock plunged in. He was fully hard and mast, as if he’d walked in aroused and it heated Jongin to the core. Jongin had been prepared.  _ Not for him, _ he’d rationalized,  _ they might arrive any time now and work will be as usual. _ Except it was thoughts of Chanyeol’s cock in him that he’d loosened himself to. He could lie to all but himself. 

He gasped with each thrust, bouncing in Chanyeol’s lap. Chanyeol bunched up the remains of the garment, cinching it up to his chest so could touch Jongin’s cock, stroke him fast and mercilessly like his thrusts. Jongin’s gasps grew louder, Chanyeol’s thrusts got harsher, powerful roll of hips that forced Jongin up and speared him on his cock when he came back down. 

“A chroí, you are still so beautiful,” 

“So precious, mo ghrá,”

He gritted out praises and kissed along Jongin’s throat, jawline and shoulders. Arousal drummed through Jongin, arousal with waxing affection at the endearments he missed hearing from Chanyeol’s lips, the ones he’d only ever been called by him. 

“A chuisle,” Chanyeol rasped, pinning Jongin closer. They were both rising to the pinnacle of their lust, Jongin could feel it and he couldn’t restrain himself from calling out Chanyeol’s name the way Chanyeol was reverently repeating the mantra of _ a chuisle a chuisle a chuisle! _

He reached to stroke his own cock but Chanyeol quickly slapped his hands away, fixing both of them behind his back, “Like this,” he urged, thrusting into Jongin with emergency. With Chanyeol binding him, no purchase to find and nothing anchoring besides Chanyeol inside him, every snap of hips sent Jongin arching and Chanyeol’s cock finding a deeper seat inside him. His cock slapped against Chanyeol’s clothed chest and the abrasion only added to the pleasure. He came untouched, body bowing backwards as Chanyeol gripped him tight and kept thrusting. 

His heart would not come down and he could not silence his gasps as Chanyeol kept impaling him, seeking his own orgasm and sending overwhelming bolts of sensations through Jongin’s body. He released inside Jongin, sporadic thrusts turning to one long push upwards of staining his insides with copious hot semen. 

He rested his forehead against Jongin’s, knuckles stroking down the indentation of his back and breathed hard. He showed no intention of moving. He opened his eyes and focused on Jongin after a short repose, his palm moving to Jongin’s cheek. 

“Talk to me.” he smiled, content shining through him. 

Jongin laughed, forcing a little acridness into it. “You couldn’t wait to make yourself presentable before you shoved your cock inside me and now you want to talk?” 

“Did I hear a complaint?” Chanyeol remained unperturbed, his content too great to disturb as he fondled and caressed Jongin’s body, “I thought I might die if I didn’t get inside you. I have missed you. Do you not feel the same?” 

Jongin shrugged and focused on the strands that had further come undone so he would not have to look Chanyeol in the eye and allow him to see just how relieved he was, how much of the content he shared, how he had yearned for him so badly it stole all his inner peace. 

“How are you my love? Have you met with your cousin? Alexander? I know they are both safe.”

“Of course. You didn’t suppose I came straight here for you, did you?”

“No, I didn’t. But it’s true for me. I only saw the king because it was required. If you will relate this to no one, I’ll have you know that the thought of defying him and finding you immediately did occur to me. You are first for me.” he circled Jongin’s waist and pressed his lips to his sternum.

“Almost,” Jongin whispered, unable to fight the curl of affection. 

“In my heart and all the matters I can help.” 

“I shall have you sleep in the sty, Commander.” Jongin threatened,  _ for turning me so damn weak with your argent words and tender care.  _

“Ah. I was expecting you to call me a silver tongued demon again. The sty’s a little drastic, is it not my sweeting?” he moved his lips down along the sternum and Jongin pulled the hairpin out so he could he lace his fingers through the locks and massage softly. They too had grown longer.

“Would you rather I cut out your tongue?” 

Chanyeol lifted his head, expression glimmering, “As long as you put yours in my mouth often to remind me what it’s like to have one.”

“You,” Jongin scowled, “are so disgraceful right now, I am speechless.” 

“Allow me to help you find your words?” he beamed and it wounded Jongin’s soul, whenever the beastly man appeared so winsome and ox-eyed in his presence. The sweetest pain. What was this? Hadn’t he decided it was best to put an end to this before the decision was taken out of his hands? 

“Has my lord enjoyed my service?” Jongin asked, honeyed and demure all of a sudden. “I must be going now, unless my lord wishes to spare another coin.”

The mirth and ease vanished from Chanyeol. He darkened, the way a sky did when a storm rolled in. Jongin could almost hear the fury rumbling inside him like thunder. 

“This again.” he said quietly, more control in his voice than appeared on his visage.  

Jongin was ready for whatever Chanyeol was to do next but the breath was still knocked from him when he flipped them over, somehow managing to stay inside him. He reached for the leather coil on one of the short posts and bound Jongin’s hands to the frame, the coil kept there for exactly this purpose. He grabbed Jongin’s hips, hair falling over his shoulders, to his hips and brushing Jongin’s waist. His face was drawn in harsh lines, his grip unforgiving and Jongin knew then that if he did not succeed in breaking Chanyeol’s heart, we would at least succeed in getting his body fucked to spinelessness. 

“You want to do this. All right.” Chanyeol said solemnly, ripping away the remains of the garment and leaving Jongin exposed as he was born. “How many have you lain with in my absence?” he started thrusting weakly, testing Jongin’s sensitivity and something devilish lighting in his eyes when Jongin winced and bucked his hips. He could feel Chanyeol’s release leaking out and the cock hardening inside him and though he had not recovered enough for another round, a sadistic part of him wanted Chanyeol to plough him mercilessly and make him see stars before he was ready. 

“Many, Commander.” Jongin grinned, “So many I lost count. They sodomized my rump, used my mouth, every orifice they could. Day and night,” he continued, ignoring the wince that threatened to manifest with each word. There had only been the odd traveler or two every so often and the few servants that wandered down from the palace, nothing like the madness he was trying to convince Chanyeol of but Chanyeol was none the wiser and Jongin persisted, “I spread my legs because that is what I am. A whore.” he spat, willing Chanyeol to understand, to hear him and to hear what Jongin was really saying. He did not. Jongin could see it in the way he grew increasingly clouded with rage at each of Jongin’s word and Jongin had anger of his own to contend. Didn't the Commander see that it could never be for them? Never. What place did a whore have in the legacy of the  _ Black Crow? _ None. This would only hurt them the more it was permitted to continue.

“I let them—” but Jongin was not allowed to complete his sentence. Chanyeol clapped a hand over his mouth and started thrusting in aggressively, no more experimental pushes or easing in. He pushed himself back in to the hilt, eliciting a groan that was muffled by his hand. He rammed in and then out, finding Jongin’s prostate effortlessly. Jongin tried to control his body and the reactions he gave, he tried to hold on to the anger and frustration and pain but his rationality was overpowered and put to sleep by the involuntary pleasure. His cock hardened once again, almost against his wishes and the ache in his core brewed. He glared and manoeuvred a finger of Chanyeol’s into his mouth and clamped down on it, hard, but Chanyeol only glared back and let him bite him without so much as a grimace. 

“Have any of them made your cock so wet like this?” Chanyeol demanded, the indecent squelch of his cock driving into Jongin continuing to sound. He had a wrist around Jongin’s shaft, a thumb on his weeping head, rubbing and spreading the fluid, sending Jongin’s senses into overdrive. 

Jongin stubbornly remained silent, biting on Chanyeol’s finger. With such little effort that irritated Jongin, he managed to unsnag himself from the teeth and shove his fingers further into Jongin’s mouth, to his throat, choking him. 

“Well my love?” he pressed, face closer. 

It only served to excite Jongin, with Chanyeol filling him and touching him in every way possible. He was content to let the man force a wrist down his throat and treat his ass with the brute reserved for an enemy. 

But Chanyeol wanted his answers and subservience. 

He swiftly pulled out and turned Jongin onto his stomach. He forced a hand underneath him and pushed him up onto his knees. His torso was forced down by the leather tie and it was only now that he was truly beginning to feel the constraints of it in the muscles of his arms and shoulders. 

He could feel himself clench and open, silently beginning for Chanyeol to put his cock back inside him but his appeal was ignored (though no doubt seen.). He heard the rustle of fabric being removed and discarded and his anticipation grew. He’d craved for so long to have Chanyeol’s hard and corrugated body on his. At last Chanyeol wrapped his fingers around Jongin’s arousal again and hunched over him, mouth right by his ear, coarse beard grazing his cheekbone. 

“Tell me again, a chroi, has another ever made your cock wet?” his hard thrust sent Jongin forward, the bind pulled on his muscles, the blend of pleasure and pain elicited a helpless groan. 

“N-no.”

“Have you ever begged another to fuck you to your gut?” 

“N-no!”Jongin cried as Chanyeol grew rougher and gruffer.

“Have you ever been insatiable for another?” 

“No!”

The fact that moistened his eyes was that there was no falsehood in anything that had been said. He’d mused over the irony of it, how Chanyeol was the one who paid the most for his services, even if he never used them before they became consensual, but could have Jongin bowing to his desires with the least amount of effort. 

He’d kept his wits about him for as long as he could but he could never have denied how easily he was filled with lust for Chanyeol once he surrendered to it. He begged for others but only under their orders. He gave up his body because it was his livelihood. He showed them what they wanted to see and to hear. But none of it applied with Chanyeol. He begged Chanyeol because he elicited a need in him like no other. He gave him his body because he wished to. He desired Chanyeol, raw and simple. Not only had Chanyeol stolen that piece of his heart he’d set out for, he’d also tamed Jongin’s body to his commands and affections, such that he would never be satisfied by anyone else again. 

“No. What!” Chanyeol bellowed, his grip indenting Jongin’s hips, his cock plunge in without barely leaving. 

“No my lord!” 

“Then it’s settled,” he said, gentle at once. “I shall remind you again. You may be a whore but you are mine. You are mine in all the ways you can never be another’s and that is all that matters to me. Is that understood?” he punctuated each sentence with a hilted thrust and Jongin’s knees were so weak he was close to collapsing and letting the Commander mount him on his stomach. 

Chanyeol did not demand anything from his silence then. His thrusts slowed but did not gentle. Jongin eventually fell to his stomach. Chanyeol only parted his thighs and continued moving inside him, making Jongin whimper at the new angle. He would call it more love making than fucking now. Chanyeol’s fingers twisted in Jongin’s hair and his lips swallowed all his pleas and whimpers. He kissed away his tears too, tears of defeat and pleasure, humming endeared reassurances to him. 

_ “Chanyeol,” _ he warned, hanging on by threads when he started to roll his hips and pulled out to the tip before drilling back in. 

“It’s alright,” Chanyeol hushed him, hands firmly on Jongin’s hips as he kneeled over him, kneecaps at Jongin’s sides. “Let go for me.”

Jongin complied, hands clasped together tight, pulling on the restraints as he arched and Chanyeol’s weight held him down. 

“Yes, my love, yes, come for me.” Chanyeol murmured into his shoulder, holding his middle where it lifted off the bed, his hips not once stopping. The hard thrusts send Jongin into rapture as he climaxed, mind numbing bliss that concurrently turned his body into the heaviest lead and lightest zephyr. 

Chanyeol grabbed Jongin’s jaw as he met his own rapture, not minding the drool trailing out of the corners of Jongin’s mouth as he fixed their mouths together, kissing and fucking him through his own orgasm and Jongin’s post-pleasure tremors. 

With one last kiss that missed his lips and landed on his cheek, Chanyeol rolled off Jongin and fell to the side. Fluid instantly made its way out of him and trickled to his perineum and his inner thighs. He felt salacious and sated. 

“Chanyeol, untie me.” he groaned when the latter just stayed heaving for breath by his side, the burn of the leather on his wrist and muscles no longer pleasurable now that he was not enthralled by lust. 

“Will you act a dunce again?” 

“You are the only dunce here, Commander.” Jongin scoffed, trying to turn his head. 

“That must be a yes. I will go and wash, my sweeting. I’ll expect a different answer when I return.” Jongin felt the bed shift as Chanyeol sat up. 

“Chanyeol you would not  _ dare.” _

“Has your answer changed?” 

“Fine.” Jongin grunted, relenting. “Just untie me.” He straightened in relief as soon as the knot was undone and rubbed at the redness where the leather cut in. 

“Let me see.” Chanyeol took over his wrists, inspecting and rubbing over them tenderly. “I apologize, I was rough with the binds.” he murmured, lifting Jongin’s wrists to his lips and sending Jongin’s heart tottering. 

“I still believe you are making a mistake.” Jongin said quietly. 

Chanyeol sighed and pulled him against his chest. 

“I shall never love or desire another. That is not a mistake. Can you not see that?”

“I can but I can’t fathom why.”

“Then come with me,” Chanyeol threaded his fingers through Jongin’s hair, lips on his temple, “come with me to my estate and let me show you why.” 

“What?” Jongin sat up quickly and faced Chanyeol. There was a disquietude in the Commander’s eyes that Jongin had scarcely seen.  

“I wish to lease you from Calwyn for a year, Jongin. It’s what I went to speak with the King about. I was granted a year’s leave, barring emergencies. You shall live with me for a year and if you sincerely do not want to stay with me after that period, I will let you go.” there was a note of grief in the quiet pledge, aside from the rigid solemnity. 

“A year?” Jongin breathed, a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions taking place inside him. “Will I...be in your service?”

“No!” Chanyeol said quickly, “No. It’s what I’ll tell Calwyn but you shall only live with me. There will not be anything you do not wish to do required of you.” 

“A year,” Jongin repeated, slightly dazed, “to live with you.” 

Chanyeol intertwined their fingers again and brought their clasped hands to his chest, to his heart where a long streak of scar marred the skin nearby. “What do you say?” 

“Chanyeol,” Jongin said, unable to help his own grief from leaking into his voice, “I am only a whore. You are the Commander. There can be no longevity between us. Why do you refuse to see this?” 

“It’s not that I’m refusing to see it. I see it. And I refuse to  _ accept  _ it, Jongin. I will not be miserable for my life to satisfy the decorum of others. If I did, I would not be where I am today. I  _ do not care  _ who thinks you are wrong for me. You are more than what you do. I love you, a chuisle. Please give us this chance.” 

“Do you mean this?” Jongin asked shakily. He couldn’t help but feel he was skimming along a rooftop, blinded and one answer from plummeting off the edge. 

“Every word.” he vowed. He loosened a hand to cup Jongin’s face and bring him closer. “Every word.” he kissed him softly, sweet and tender and designed to dissolve the last of Jongin’s resolve. 

“All right. I—a year. For a year.” 

Chanyeol searched his eyes, hope blossoming immediately and bursting into happiness when he saw Jongin’s earnesty. He laughed, a most delighted hearty sound, and tackled Jongin into the mattress with kisses and an iron embrace.  

“There will not be a year if you crush me!” Jongin protested, but it was halfhearted. Chanyeol’s joy and love was welcome, however heavy it weighed on him when he thought of the future and its consequences. 

“Forgive me,” Chanyeol lifted himself off, sounding entirely unapologetic. He pulled Jongin into his lap, as if he couldn’t bear the slightest of distance between them. The grin seemed to be an integral and permanent feature on him and Jongin could not stay unaffected by its radiance. He wrapped his arms around Chanyeol and fit his head beneath his jaw, nuzzling his throat and fingers skimming the rugged scarred expanse of his back. 

“Does this mean I’ve won your heart?” Chanyeol said, full of the cheekiness that exasperated Jongin, “Because that’s the toughest battle if I am to be truthful.”

Jongin pulled away to raise a brow at Chanyeol. “Are you implying that I cause grief and bloodshed and death?” 

“No,” Chanyeol sighed, hands moving along the sides of Jongin’s thighs and surprising him when they reached behind him and held him open. “But I would go to those lengths for you.” he eased himself in, shocking Jongin further at how he was almost fully hard. So quick? 

_ “Oh,” _ Jongin replied intelligently as Chanyeol lifted his hips. “Again? We need—we need to wash.” but his body moved to the contrary, bracing Chanyeol’s shoulders and undulating with him.  _ I would go to those lengths for you.  _ Jongin’s beat skipped for a moment as he tried to think through the forming arousal.  _ Damn this silver tongued demon, truly.  _

“Then let’s give ourselves a reason to wash, hm?” he grinned with traces of wicked, gripping Jongin’s jaw again to kiss breathless. 

 

The revelry went on in the streets and the Commander and his beloved found battle and triumph in each other’s body, in each other’s heart, for love is the greatest war.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/miraclesnapril) ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡


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